


I know all your secrets (I know all your lies)

by Anonymous



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Canon Divergence - Lucifer (TV) Season 04, Emotional Hurt, Episode: s04e02 Somebody's Been Reading Dante's Inferno, Episode: s04e03 O Ye of Little Faith Father, Everyone Needs A Hug, Guilt, Hurt Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22553740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After the events on the set of The Cabin, Chloe and Lucifer finally have their date. But this time, Chloe's hand is steady, and the wineglass doesn't break.
Comments: 31
Kudos: 171
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by luciferprompts on tumblr: "Oh my god, you roofied Satan!"
> 
> Fic and chapter titles taken from the lyrics to "Secrets and Lies" by Ruelle.

"I am glad that there are no secrets between us now. And if you ever have any more questions, I shall be happy to answer any and all of them. I've always been honest with you, Detective. And I always will be." Lucifer speaks with such genuine relief, his expression open and inviting; the picture of sincerity, Chloe thinks, nothing at all like Kinley's conniving Prince of Lies.

And he _has_ always been honest with her. He's never once lied to her about who he is. She's the one who chose not to believe him.

_I really am the Devil._

_No you're not. Not to me._

Chloe gives him a small, tight-lipped smile. The vial in her pocket burns shamefully against her thigh.

It doesn't matter. Even if he's not a liar, he's still the Devil - the _actual_ Devil. He's still impossibly dangerous to every being on Earth. Death and destruction follow wherever he goes. Isn't that what all of the books said - the ones she pored over every day in Rome? The Devil is the embodiment of evil. He belongs in Hell, punishing evildoers, not here, running a nightclub and making grilled cheese sandwiches.

Lucifer jumps up to put on some music, disappearing behind the antique Assyrian wall. She seizes the opportunity, sliding the vial out of her pocket and pulling out the stopper, holding her breath, her eyes on the empty space leading into his bedroom. She tilts the clear liquid over his wineglass, watches as it flows in a thin stream, breaking the smooth red surface and mixing seamlessly with the wine. Her heart pounds, the sound filling her ears like the susurration of ocean waves, louder even than the music that suddenly blares throughout the penthouse.

She replaces the stopper and slips the vial back into her pocket just as Lucifer rounds the corner, sound system remote in hand, tapping the volume down to a more bearable level.

”There we are, music sorted.” He folds gracefully back into his seat across the table from her and immediately reaches for his wineglass. She wonders if he can hear the quick, percussive thump of her heartbeat; the damn thing feels like it’s going to leap out of her chest any second now.

”A toast, Detective,” he proposes, and she lifts her wineglass mechanically, mouth dry, palms sweating. “To you.” He raises one eyebrow, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. She nearly laughs - she knows that smirk so well - but it dies in her throat before it even begins. She swallows, hard. But she used to be an actress, and this is just another role: the Devil’s love interest. She can do this.

”To _us_ ,” she corrects him, making her voice soft as she clinks her glass against his, and she doesn’t miss the surprised, hopeful expression that crosses his face at her words. It tugs at her heart, and for a moment, he’s no longer the Devil; he’s just Lucifer. Her partner. Her friend.

He lifts the glass to his lips, and she watches the smooth movement of the muscles in his throat as he swallows a mouthful of wine.

Her lungs constrict and terror wells up, huge and sudden and inescapable. Her hand flies out and strikes the glass from his fingers; it crashes to the floor, spilling wine and poison and bits of shattered glass on the smooth tile.

”Detective!” he cries, voice high and shocked. “What on earth -” He cuts off abruptly, lifts his fingers to his mouth, eyes wide and suddenly glassy.

She leaps to her feet and runs frantically around the table, words spilling heedlessly from her mouth. “Oh God, Lucifer, I’m so sorry, please -”

”Detective,” he slurs, the word coming out too slowly, and then he slumps to the floor. She falls to her knees beside him, her breathing far too rapid; if she passes out right now, she has no idea what will happen to him, but she can’t quiet the panic-monster tearing through her chest.

He reaches up to her, blinking slowly, as if he’s trying and failing to focus his gaze on her. Her fingers find his wrist, cling desperately, seeking his heartbeat. It’s there, but faint, unsteady.

”What...” he struggles to speak, but the effort is too great, and then his eyes close and his body goes limp under her hands.

For one terrible moment her vision darkens, and an enormous, crushing weight presses down on her, and this is it, she's doomed him; she's going to pass out, and Kinley's going to show up and take him away, to do God-knows-what to him, and it will be all her fault, her fault, her fault.

And then the moment passes. Her vision clears. The weight settles in her gut, a heavy stone of guilt and betrayal. The panic still hovers nearby, ready to pounce on her next moment of weakness. And she can't afford another moment of weakness. She has to fix this. She has to protect Lucifer.

She checks his breathing and his pulse again; both are barely-there, but still, they _are_ there, and she's nearly breathless with relief.

She pulls the vial out of her pocket again, looks at it critically. There's a tiny bit of liquid left in the bottom. She considers it for a moment. Then she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone; she debates over who to call first, and finally presses the call button for Ella's cell.

Ella picks up on the first ring. "Chloe! You're supposed to be on a hot date right now! What's up? You got some steamy deets for me?"

As always, Ella's exuberance momentarily overwhelms Chloe. How does _one person_ contain _so much_ energy? But she's counting on that energy, and Ella's friendship with Lucifer, to help him now. "Ella, I need a favor."

"Favors are Lucifer's thing," Ella jokes. "You should ask him, he's right there, isn't he?"

Chloe's breath catches in her throat, her eyes drawn to Lucifer, still unconscious on the floor. "Actually, Ella, Lucifer's in trouble. I need your help."

"Oh my God," Ella breathes, the teasing tone in her voice immediately replaced with concern. "What happened?"

Chloe doesn't want to confess to what she's done. She can't afford for everyone to be caught up in the details right now; that might slow them down, and Lucifer doesn't have time for that. "He - he took something, Ella, and I don't know what it is. I need you to take it back to the lab and analyze it. Figure out what's in it, and if there's something we can give him to counteract it."

"Oh my God," Ella repeats. "Oh my God. Yeah, I can definitely do that. Are you at Lux? I'll come right away."

"Yes, we're at Lux." Chloe feels a rush of relief that Ella hasn't asked any difficult questions yet, but she knows her next request might change that. "And Ella? Can you keep this a secret, please? Don't tell anyone."

"Okay..." Chloe can tell Ella's curiosity is piqued, and hopes like hell that she'll hold her questions until after she tests the contents of the vial. "Sure, Chloe. See you in a few."

She hangs up. Chloe takes a deep breath. The next call won't be as easy, she knows. She dials Linda's number. The phone rings once, twice, three times; Linda doesn't pick up.

Chloe leaves an awkward voicemail. "Linda, it's Chloe. I'm at the penthouse with Lucifer. He needs your help, right away. But, um - this needs to stay between us for right now. Okay. Hope to see you soon. Bye."

She slips the phone back into her pocket and checks on Lucifer again. He's holding steady, heartbeat still weak, barely breathing. But he's alive. He's alive.

She clings to that fact as she waits for help to arrive. She tries to pick Lucifer up, put him on the couch or the bed or anywhere more comfortable than the cold, hard floor, but he's _heavy_. She makes do, putting a pillow under his head and a blanket over him. She curls up beside him on the floor, not touching him, just watching the slow pulse of his heartbeat in his throat, the tentative rise and fall of his chest.

She forces herself to hold back her tears, and waits for her friends - soon to be ex-friends, no doubt - to come help her save Lucifer.


	2. Chapter 2

When the elevator finally dings, Chloe feels like hours must have gone by since she made those phone calls. Hours where she simply lay there, watching Lucifer, a ceaseless litany going around and around in her head. _You did this, you did this, you did this_. But a quick glance at her phone tells her only 20 minutes have passed.

She forces herself to sit up as Ella exits the elevator at a run and hurries over to where Lucifer lays, still unconscious, on the floor.

"Oh, no," Ella breathes, her eyes wide. "Lucifer..."

"Can you help me get him onto the bed?" Chloe asks, scrubbing her hands across her eyes. "He's too heavy for me."

Together, they manage to carry him up the stairs into his bedroom. Chloe carefully removes his shoes before tucking him under the silky sheets. He looks so peaceful lying there, so vulnerable - so _human_. His perfectly-styled hair now mussed, soft curls lying across his forehead. She smooths them away from his face with trembling fingers. _Please wake up. Please be okay._

Ella huffs out a small laugh at Chloe's tender gesture. "Totally the wrong time to be thinking this, I know, but God, I ship Deckerstar so hard."

Chloe can't speak around the lump in her throat, knowing that Ella wouldn't be making jokes right now if she knew that Chloe was the one responsible for Lucifer's current condition. She heads toward the elevator, Ella following right behind her. At the doors, she stops, pulling the vial out of her pocket and handing it over. "This is what he - what made him pass out."

Ella examines the little bottle, brow furrowed. "There's not a lot in here for me to work with."

"I know. Try, anyway? Anything we can learn about it might help."

Ella nods. "I'm on it."

The elevator doors close behind her. Chloe stands there, restless. What now?

She cleans up the spilled wine and broken glass. She's only been in the penthouse's kitchen a few times, but she manages to find storage containers for the uneaten grilled cheese sandwiches, which she tucks away into a refrigerator that's far too large and opulent for a man living on his own. She washes their plates and her own wineglass, puts them away.

Cleanup finished, she heads back to the bedroom. Lucifer's state remains unchanged; still knocked out, still barely breathing, pulse weak and fluttery. She climbs onto the bed beside him, reaches out and twines her fingers with his. His hand is limp and cool to the touch.

She chokes back a sob and resumes her vigil, keeping careful watch over him.

Eventually, the elevator dings again, and she hears Linda calling out from somewhere near the bar. "Lucifer? Chloe?"

Chloe slips off the bed, reluctantly releasing Lucifer's hand, and hurries down the steps, bracing herself for the unpleasant conversation ahead. "Hey, Linda. Thanks for coming."

The doctor wears a plain pink pajama set under her jacket, and it's clear she'd been in bed. Chloe feels a new pang of guilt. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Linda waves a hand at Chloe. "You didn't. I was taking a long bath, and didn't look at my phone until after I put on my pjs." She adjusts her glasses and glances toward the bedroom, spotting Lucifer passed out on the bed. "What's going on? You said Lucifer needs my help."

Chloe gestures to the couch, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. "He does. But first, we need to talk."

"Ohh." Linda's expression shifts, realization dawning. "Is this about..." She waggles her fingers in front of her face. "What you saw?"

"No," Chloe begins. "I - wait." She interrupts herself to stare at the doctor. "Do you _know_?"

Linda sighs. "We'd better sit."

For Chloe, it's more collapsing than sitting - somewhere in the back of her mind, she recognizes that she's running on empty, and the sick adrenaline coursing through her is the only thing keeping her awake right now. She curls into the corner of the couch, resting her cheek against the soft leather.

Linda sits carefully beside her. "I've seen his face, too," she says. "About a year after I took him on as a patient."

Chloe does the mental math, and her eyes widen. "You've known for that long?"

"That my 'delusional' patient who thinks he's the Devil is actually the Devil? Yep."

Chloe closes her eyes and slumps further into the sofa. "Why didn't he tell me you knew? I've been - I've been trying to handle this all on my own, but I _can't_ , it's too much -"

"Chloe," Linda interrupts, placing a comforting hand on Chloe's shoulder. "I'm sorry. Lucifer told me you'd seen his devil face, and I was worried about you - I know what it was like for me when I saw it for the first time. But after you came back from Europe, the way he described your interactions with him - it sounded like you were handling everything very well." She sighs. "I should have known better. I should have checked in with you regardless. I know it’s a lot to process."

Chloe buries her face in her hands, her eyes growing hot against her fingers. "If I'd had someone to talk to, maybe I wouldn't have done this," she whispers.

Linda grasps her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face, forcing Chloe to look at her. "Done what?" she demands.

Chloe gestures helplessly at Lucifer. "I did this to him. I put - I put a sedative in his wine -" Her voice breaks at the admission, and the tears she's struggled to hold back flow freely down her cheeks.

"Oh my God." Linda throws out her hands in a disbelieving gesture. "You _roofied_ Satan? Chloe, why on Earth would you do that?"

Chloe cringes, at both Linda's words and the tone in which they're delivered; a fresh wave of self-loathing crashes through her. God, she'd been so stupid.

"Chloe." Linda's voice is stern. She folds her hands in her lap and leans forward, into Chloe's space. "I need you to tell me what happened."

So Chloe tells her everything. The terror she felt at seeing Lucifer's devil face, her subsequent escape to Europe, her visit to Rome, her research on the Devil. Meeting Kinley, getting pulled into his plan to send Lucifer back to Hell. Putting the sedative in Lucifer's wineglass. Slapping it out of his hand when the full weight of her actions finally hit her.

"But he already drank some," she whispers hoarsely. There'd been a good deal of crying during her re-telling of the past month's events, and her throat aches; her eyes are puffy and itchy, and she's bone-weary, utterly exhausted.

Linda hadn't said a word through the entire explanation. But the knuckles of her clasped hands are white, her mouth set in a thin line. Chloe looks over at her warily. "I'm sorry, Linda," she chokes out. "I'm so sorry."

Linda takes a deep breath. When she speaks, Chloe gets the distinct impression that the doctor is carefully refraining from shouting. "Chloe, as your friend, I want to say I sympathize with how you feel. I _want_ to say that your reaction - and actions - are understandable."

Chloe waits for the "but."

"But," Linda continues, "as Lucifer's friend - _and_ as his therapist - I'm trying really hard not to slap you right now."

Chloe gets it, she really does. She even deserves it. She knows that. Her eyes meet Linda's, and she wilts under the disappointment in her friend's gaze.

Her phone rings, startling them both. Chloe picks it up with a shaky hand. "It's Ella," she murmurs. "She must have analyzed the sedative." She taps the screen to put the call on speakerphone. "Hi, Ella. Linda's here - I've got you on speaker."

Ella doesn't even bother to say hello. "Chloe," she says frantically, "How much of this did Lucifer actually ingest? He didn't take this whole bottle, did he?"

Chloe's stomach clenches at Ella's panicked tone. "No," she says. "No, just a little swig, I think."

"Okay." Ella sounds slightly calmer. "Okay, that's good. That's good."

"Why, Ella?" Linda asks. "What is it?"

"I'm honestly not sure," Ella replies. "It's kind of like midazolam, but way more potent - if Lucifer drank the whole bottle, I'm pretty sure he'd need a hospital. If he didn't drop dead immediately. This stuff is _scary_ strong."

The enormity of how close Lucifer came to death - how close _she_ came to _causing_ his death - sends Chloe reeling; she wraps her arms around herself as shivers wrack her body. "Ella, what does it do? How can we fix it?"

"Umm... overdose can cause loss of consciousness - which obviously happened - um, irregular breathing, irregular heartbeat, a bunch of other stuff - he might have trouble remembering events that happened directly before taking the drug, and after waking up - but if the dose wasn't fatal, it should work itself out of his system in a few hours." Ella pauses, out of breath. “Activated charcoal can counter it, but only if it’s administered right away. I think it’s too late for that now.”

Chloe looses a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Okay. Okay, so if we just keep an eye on him and let him sleep it off, he should be fine."

"I guess." Ella's uncertainty is plain, even through the phone. "Really, though, Chlo, he should go to the hospital -"

"It's okay, Ella," Linda interrupts. "I'm a doctor, remember? I can keep an eye on him."

Ella scoffs. "No disrespect, Linda, but you're not that kind of doctor."

"Ella, I promise if he gets worse, we'll take him to the hospital," Chloe swears.

"You better," Ella warns her.

They hang up, and Chloe looks over at Linda. The doctor looks like she's undergoing some intense internal struggle.

"Chloe, you need to leave," she says finally.

Chloe flinches, as if Linda had actually slapped her. Does Linda think she’s still a threat to Lucifer? That she might try to hurt him again if she stays?

Well, it’s not an unreasonable concern, is it - especially considering what she’s already done. Her gut twists unpleasantly. But right now, her concern for Lucifer is stronger than her shame. "I'm not going anywhere until I know he's okay."

Linda closes her eyes and rubs her temples, clearly fed up. "Chloe, you're the reason this affected him so badly in the first place," she snaps.

Chloe blinks at Linda's vehemence, not understanding. "What does that mean?"

The doctor looses a long-suffering sigh. “He didn't tell you this either, did he."

"Linda," Chloe hisses. "Tell me what?"

Linda shrugs, holds up her hands in a helpless gesture. "He's the Devil. Immortal, invulnerable, eternal - except when you're around. You make him..." she pauses, searching for the right word. "Mortal. He can be hurt in your presence."

Chloe's pretty sure she can't handle any more celestial revelations in her life after tonight. "Me?" she asks incredulously. "What - _why_?"

Linda sighs, shaking her head. "I don't know. There's just something special about you."

"So..." Chloe works this new information over slowly, considering it from all angles. "So he's susceptible to injury when I'm around. And that includes poisoning. So if I leave..."

"He'll get better."

Chloe looks over at the bedroom. From her seat on the couch, she can't actually see Lucifer. The panic wells up again; there's a hard knot in her belly, a hot lump in her throat. "I can't leave him," she whispers, and stands up, shuffling wearily to the bedroom to check on him.

He's still breathing. His heart still beats. She sends a wordless prayer of gratitude into the universe, to whatever - or whoever - might be listening.

Linda moves quietly up the stairs to stand beside Chloe. She studies her friend for a moment, taking in the tear stains on her cheeks, the dark shadows under her eyes. She nods, reaching a silent decision, and settles into one of the overstuffed armchairs at the foot of the bed.

Chloe rubs her eyes, sniffling, then looks over at Linda. "Linda? What are you doing?"

"Go, Chloe," Linda's tone is gentle, but Chloe knows it's not a request. "I'll watch him. Get some sleep. Let him heal."

Chloe gives a small shake of her head, but her eyes drift back to Lucifer. He's caught in the throes of an overdose right now, an overdose that could have killed him simply because of her closeness. If she stays, he'll continue to suffer.

She can't do that to him.

She steps away from the bed hesitantly. "You'll let me know when he wakes up?"

"Yes." Linda's answer is calm, reassuring. "I will."

"Okay," Chloe whispers. "Okay. I'll go." She turns towards the steps.

"Chloe," Linda says. "Are you going to tell him?"

The penthouse is warm, but a chill sweeps through Chloe nonetheless, a cold that seems to settle deep in her bones. She swallows, hard. "I will. After he wakes up."

"Good," Linda says; there's an odd finality in the word. In the dark of the bedroom, Chloe can't read her expression. "Because I have no interest in being the one to tell the Devil that his partner tried to poison him."

Chloe doesn't remember leaving the penthouse, or driving home. She falls into her bed, and though heat pricks at her eyes and shame swells in her heart, she's too exhausted to even cry. Linda's last words ring through her head, over and over again, and eventually they become the bitter lullaby that lulls Chloe to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not a medical professional, so the symptoms of the sedative are based on my best Googling abilities. Hopefully it seems at least somewhat realistic.
> 
> Next chapter coming soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Chloe's spent two chapters beating herself up, it's time for her to switch into Protective!Detective mode and break up with Father Kinley. Enjoy!

Chloe wakes only a few hours later with Lucifer's name on her lips.

She rolls over and grabs her phone from the nightstand, scrambling to check her texts. It's still early in the morning—too early, she realizes as she examines the dim pre-dawn light suffusing her bedroom. And no message from Linda yet. Chloe frowns at her phone and shoots off a quick _Is he awake?_ to the doctor before flopping back down onto the bed.

She stares at the ceiling, thoughts whirling. Memories from the night before play over and over again in her head. Her shaking hand delivering the sedative to his wine glass. Lucifer picking up the glass, toasting to her, taking a sip.

Lucifer, falling limp and unconscious to the floor.

He'll have questions when he wakes up. He'll want to know what happened last night. And Linda won't tell him. No, that responsibility falls on Chloe alone. Dread coils in her belly, and she curls into herself beneath the covers, drawing the blankets up under her chin.

She'll tell Lucifer the truth. She will, no matter how sickened she feels at the thought of confessing her betrayal to him.

But first, she needs to put an end to her alliance with Father Kinley.

* * *

As she walks toward the lighthouse, Chloe ponders exactly what to say to the priest. She can't tell him that she gave Lucifer the sedative last night. She's yet to receive a response from Linda, and Kinley may decide to go after Lucifer while he's still unconscious and vulnerable. Still, she wants Kinley to know that she's giving up her role in this horrific plan.

She needs to play this carefully.

Chloe takes a seat at one of the benches and stares out over the bay. She's here to protect the Devil himself from the murderous intentions of a Catholic priest. If someone had come to her, pre-Lucifer, and told her this is where she'd end up in a few years...

Well, she wouldn't have believed them, would she? Just like she hadn't believed Lucifer was the Devil, or that the Sinnerman existed, or that Dan was a crooked cop. No matter how much evidence piled up or how many strange things occurred, she kept right on believing exactly what she wanted to believe, instead of looking at the facts with an objective eye.

She's always prided herself on being a damn good detective, trusting her gut instinct to lead her to the truth. And when the truth was revealed, in all its crimson glory, she ran—straight to the Church. As if an institution hellbent on blaming the Devil for all of mankind's sins would give her an unbiased perspective.

What easy prey she'd been for Kinley, who took advantage of her shaken confidence and made her an unwitting accomplice in his plot to rid the world of the Devil. An exorcism—the idea seems so flimsy, now. Given the opportunity, why would a zealot like Kinley stop at simple banishment? Of course his goal would be the death of the Devil himself.

What happened to her keen intuition? How had she allowed him to mislead her so easily?

The quiet shuffling of footsteps in the grass behind her alerts Chloe to Kinley's presence. She half-turns on the bench to greet him. "Thank you for meeting me."

He doesn't respond. He takes the seat next to her, his movements calm and self-possessed. He carries himself like a man who truly believes that his intentions are right and good, even if those intentions include attempted murder.

Chloe looks down at her feet, nervously tucking her hands between her knees, and takes a deep breath.

Kinley turns to her, his expression contemplative, then shakes his head. "You're still having second thoughts," he says, a hint of frustration in his tone.

"No, actually." Her second thoughts happened last night, when she slapped a glass of poison out of the hands of her partner—her _friend_. Yes, Lucifer had hidden things from her. He'd told her half-truths and allowed her to draw false conclusions. She still isn't certain she can actually trust him. But despite the damage the truth dealt to their inexplicable relationship, she definitely should have trusted him more than she did this malevolent stranger sitting beside her.

Heat prickles behind her eyes, but she keeps her voice steady. "I've made up my mind. I'm not going to help you."

She thinks of Lucifer smiling at her, raising the glass to his mouth, slumping over onto the floor. The tears threaten to fall, and her voice trembles. "I won't hurt Lucifer like that."

But she already hurt Lucifer like that, and she bites her lip, looking down at her shoes nestled in the dewy grass, willing herself to calm. She can't afford to lose it right now. She needs to protect Lucifer.

"All you have to do is give him the sedative," Kinley reminds her. "I will perform the exorcism."

Chloe's lip curls as a tiny rose of outrage blooms in her chest, momentarily sweeping away her guilt. "Yeah. Let's talk about that sedative." She doesn't even attempt to hide the accusatory tone in her voice.

Kinley looks at her, brow furrowed in confusion, but remains silent.

"I had it tested," Chloe says, and he blinks once before an expression of grim understanding settles on his face.

He knew, Chloe realizes, a chill rippling down her spine. He knew it was deadly. And he told her to give it to Lucifer anyway.

"If I give him that entire bottle, like you said to do, he could die." Her muscles tense as a fresh wave of fury crashes through her body. "That's _murder_."

"He is the Devil," Kinley protests. "For a mortal man, yes, the full dose of sedative could be fatal. But such strength is necessary when dealing with the supernatural."

"But I make him vulnerable," Chloe counters. She waits for his reaction. His jaw tightens for a fraction of a second, a motion so small she almost misses it completely. He knew this, too, then. "And you must have known that."

He sighs. "I suspected."

She nods, eyes narrowed. "So your plan was—what? I give him the poison, he dies and goes back to Hell, and the only person who knows the full extent of your involvement goes down for the murder of Lucifer Morningstar, innocent club owner?"

Kinley raises his eyebrows at that. "The Devil is far from innocent, Chloe," he points out, neatly sidestepping the rest of her question.

She tries, and fails, to avoid rising to the obvious bait. His deadly plans should disturb her far more than his vilification of her partner. But after weeks of blindly believing Kinley's lies, Chloe can't help but take offense on Lucifer's behalf.

She balls her hands into fists on her thighs. "But Lucifer isn't the Devil."

That's not true, of course—she's seen enough terrified suspects and mojo'd confessions to know that, whatever Lucifer says, the Devil isn't _fully_ retired—but she simply can't reconcile her cocky, charming, headstrong partner with the evil creature she found in those books and pictures in Rome. Her Lucifer helps solve crimes. He constantly risks his life for her sake. And her daughter adores him.

How could he possibly be evil?

Kinley opens his mouth to contradict her, but she doesn’t give him the chance, barreling forward with her defense. "Maybe that's who he was when he ruled Hell. But here on Earth, he's just a man. He's just trying to live his life on his own terms."

She springs to her feet, her heart hammering, fire flooding her veins. "Even if he was the monster you showed me in those books, he's not anymore. He's changed. He can be good. He deserves the chance to redeem himself."

Kinley remains silent, staring down at his folded hands. After a moment, he looks up at her and flashes her a tight-lipped smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Maybe," he says.

Chloe can tell he's only trying to appease her in an effort to retain her trust, and she knows a lost cause when she sees one. She nods once, resigned. Without another word, she turns and walks away, heading back to the parking lot.

* * *

As Chloe unlocks her car, her phone dings. A text notification. She digs the phone out of her pocket, her pulse quickening as her fingers scramble across the screen. It's a message from Linda.

_He's awake. He's okay._

The weight in Chloe's chest lightens as she reads the words. She didn't kill him. He's going to be fine. She takes a deep breath, willing her racing heart to calm down.

Another ding. _He doesn't remember what happened. He's asking questions. You need to talk to him. Soon._

Chloe hastily types a response. _I will. Thank you, Linda._

But then she bites her lip, glancing at the time on her phone. If she goes to Lux now, she'll be late to work. And she can’t go tonight, because she has Trixie, and this definitely isn't a conversation to have with a child around. And discussing this at the precinct tomorrow seems unwise. And tomorrow night is Taco Tuesday.

Okay. So not today. And not tomorrow. But definitely soon. She'll take a couple of days to think about what she wants to say, how to explain the situation to him.

Lucifer will be upset with her, but surely he'll forgive her. It's not like he's entirely blameless in this situation. He didn't tell her the truth about Marcus. He showed Linda the truth about himself, but not her, not his partner. No, instead she had to find out all of that information at once, in the worst way possible. Of course she didn't react well. She shouldn't have betrayed him, but he shouldn't have kept those truths from her, either.

They both screwed up. But she's confident they can work it out. They're partners, and they've managed to stay together through all sorts of terrible situations. Malcolm framed Lucifer for murder. She nearly died from poisoning. Lucifer ran off to Vegas and got married. Marcus— _Cain—_ tried his damnedest to tear them apart. She saw Lucifer's _true face_.

No matter what happens between them, they've always been able to pick up the pieces and move forward.

Chloe's phone dings once more as she opens the door of her car and slides onto the seat. She glances at the screen, and her heart does a little flip when she sees the name of the sender.

It's Lucifer.

_Detective? Are you ok?_

And, oh, isn't that a punch to the gut. Lucifer nearly died, and woke up with no memory of the previous night, yet his first concern is for her. The temporary lightness brought on by the news of his recovery is once again overshadowed by the weight of her guilt.

Chloe stares at her phone for a moment, her throat tight, her mind conflicted. An immediate reply might encourage him to ask more questions—questions she doesn't know how to answer right now, questions that should wait until they can talk face-to-face. But Chloe knows perfectly well that if she doesn't answer soon, he'll only grow more worried, more inquisitive.

Chloe's hand wavers, but she finally sets the phone down carefully on the passenger seat. She really does need to get to work on time. She only just returned from a last-minute, month-long vacation, after all. She can't afford to look like she's slacking now.

She promises herself that she'll text him back once she gets to the precinct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this chapter took way too long to happen (and I'm still not completely satisfied with it, but I can only rewrite a chapter so many times before I start to lose my damn mind). But good news—the final two chapters are already outlined and partially written, so I'm optimistic that there won't be such a huge gap between this update and the next. Thanks for reading! <3


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